


Worm Fucced

by Anonymous



Category: Paradox by Coronum (Alternate Reality Game)
Genre: Alternate Reality Game, Based on ARG, Grapefruit, Horror, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28969074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Just some poorly-written smut from the CYOA event from 8/26/20.I'm totally going to hell for this.
Relationships: Worm/Reader
Kudos: 2
Collections: Anonymous





	Worm Fucced

You are standing outside of your front door. It is dark. Blue fog hangs heavy in the air. Whatever it is, it coats your throat with each breath. You need to find out what this is. 

You decide to forge on ahead. The air grows thicker as you do. The wind shifts to blow in your face. The concrete seems to shift beneath you, as if trying to envelop your feet.

You ignore the road trying to swallow you and press onwards. Dewy grass coats your feet in a cold, damp wetness. But is it water? You do not know.

You find yourself at a streetlamp, and bench. It seems familiar.

You choose to forge on ahead, past the bench and streetlamp. A quiet buzz seems to emit from the lamp as you pass. You begin to crest a hill, and a crunch rings out from under your feet.

You look at the bottom of your sneaker. You see the mutilated remains of a small sea shell. A thick, purple ooze sizzles on the plastic.

You pull the shoe off and throw it to the side. You think you hear a thud as it hits something, but as you look the shoe is gone. You proceed forward. A puddle finds itself in your way, to which you step in. Your sock absorbs the frigid, viscous liquid. 

You ignore the liquid pulling at your foot and travel ahead. You think you see the faint glowing of... something. With the fog as thick as it is, it's strange you can see anything at all. To your right, you hear a clicking. It resonates throughout all of the air.

You ignore the call. It speaks to you. But you press forward. You pass by another streetlamp, flickering as you pass. Is that breathing behind you? Or just the wind? 

Your measured walk breaks into a sporadic run. With a burst of energy, you sprint ahead just as the tip of a serpentine tongue scrapes the back of your neck. You run. And run. And run. You come to the source of the glow, a police car crashed on a third street lamp.

You clamber towards the car's trunk. Reaching down, you pop it open. Unlocked. You have doubts for a moment. But you ignore it, climbing in.

You lay down, and close the trunk. Why did you do that? 

You rest your head down on the spongy trunk floor. Why is it spongy? Your hands rest down on flesh. The car starts to shake, retracting and expanding. Breathing. The wall moves behind you, like worms, tugging.

You begin to reach out to something. Anything. Your fingers brush upon an emergency lock, to which you reach out and pull. The fog spills into the trunk as the worms begin to eat at and pull on your back. Without a second thought, you burst into the open.

You look around, your eyes focusing on a new, dead street lamp. No. That definitely wasn't there before and definitely isn't a street lamp.

It's shrouded in fog and shadow. Both swirl around it. You can feel breath even though its tall. Something dangles from its head, a tongue? 

You turn away from... whatever this is, and run. You run as fast as your mispaired shoe and socked feet can take you. You hear a crunch like bones cracking, as a wail creeps out of the police car. 

Clicking overtakes worms.

You run down another hill. You can feel breathing again.

You can feel it gaining on you. You don't need to see to feel your skin recoil. 

You try to run, but your legs seem to have turn to mush. Your knees buckle, and you fall.

Though you are face down, you can feel it look over you. It’s tongue coils down, enveloping your body, running down to your nether regions. You start to fly. Or is it carried?

You flail about, pent up tears you didn’t know you had soaking your face. The clicking does not care. Your arms alone cannot stop it. You alone will not do.

You begin to limply pull on the tongue in an attempt to prevent its advances. Whether this actually does anything or not is hard to determine.

You keep fighting it, refusing to accept its advances. It takes you all the same, the tongue violating you. You can't help but scream at the way it fills you. 

Thank you for your time.

**Author's Note:**

> Well this was atrocious, wasn't it? 
> 
> Might make more.  
> Probably won't.  
> Enjoy nonetheless - D.


End file.
